


hallowed by the stares

by spectrespecs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Atsumu attempting to wingman, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard Ushijima Wakatoshi, Clubbing, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Model Oikawa Tooru, Mutual Pining, Oikawa knows what he wants, Oikawa's appreciation for Ushijima's muscles, Ushijima's kink is consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectrespecs/pseuds/spectrespecs
Summary: One year, three months, and 17 days ago, Ushijima Wakatoshi walked into Oikawa’s agent’s office and gave a polite bow as he was introduced as Oikawa’s new bodyguard and assistant. Not that Oikawa has been keeping track of the time or anything.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 263





	hallowed by the stares

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first haikyuu fic, and I just think that ushijima and oikawa are neat.
> 
> thank you as always to light of my life, [jade](https://twitter.com/tiedbows), who has been here supporting my swift descent into haikyuu hell.
> 
> title from [Secret Door](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9HF0DJ1cu8&ab_channel=ArcticMonkeys-Topic) by Arctic Monkeys.

One year, three months, and 17 days ago, Ushijima Wakatoshi walked into Oikawa’s agent’s office and gave a polite bow as he was introduced as Oikawa’s new bodyguard and assistant. Not that Oikawa has been keeping track of the time or anything.

At first, Oikawa absolutely fought it—refused to have a bodyguard lumbering around after him like a hulking shadow just because there had been an incident or three where photographers itching for a few shots of the famed model simply out and about trying to run errands in Tokyo got a little too close and a bit too bold. Oikawa is slight and cunning, though, and he gave Ushijima the slip every single chance he could get when the guard would appear at his apartment’s door in the morning and try to simply do his job of attempting to follow and protect Oikawa. It’s simply tragic that Ushijima possesses extreme competency in his career and would track down Oikawa from wherever he managed to slink off to immediately.

Eventually, Oikawa snapped. Not in an angry way but out of exasperation. There are only so many times he can watch 192 centimeters of Ushijima simply pluck a photographer up and deposit him out of the way, making Oikawa’s day just a little easier, before the model snapped and decided _fine_ maybe the bodyguard wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to his life. When Oikawa got back to his apartment from a photoshoot, driven home by Ushijima, the bodyguard made the moves to leave and go home for the day himself, but Oikawa had insisted he stay so they could have dinner together. Given Ushijima’s surprise, as he sat and watched Oikawa cook, it seemed Oikawa had some surprises up his sleeve still to shock Ushijima with. He had clearly not expected Oikawa to be proficient at navigating his way around a kitchen to cook a meal, but then there was clear onion soup, grilled fish, rice, and some curry on the table. Oikawa liked the look in Ushijima’s eyes as he thanked him.

That had been one year, one month, and two days ago. Maybe Oikawa had eased up on Ushijima fairly quickly, so what?

From that day on, Oikawa had made an attempt to talk to the bodyguard more, dragging out bits and pieces of his life. Ushijima didn’t speak much outside of matters related to work, and Oikawa never knew when to shut the fuck up. It was a dynamic that ended up working for them. 

Things worked their way up and progressed from there. It would be Oikawa complaining about not liking the art direction of a photoshoot he had just been at while Ushijima drove him home, and then it eventually became insisting that Ushijima come into the apartment after filming a cologne commercial and crowding into the bodyguard’s space and presenting his neck to ask if he liked the fragrance Oikawa spent the day lounging on a chaise lounge under cameras looking alluring to sell. Ushijima had tentatively leaned forward to do as instructed, his slightly long bangs falling down and brushing Oikawa’s skin, making him shiver. He had moved back quickly and turned his head to the side to give a small nod as a way of answering the question that _yes_ the scent lingered.

That had piqued Oikawa’s interest.

Oikawa liked things on the extravagant side, Ushijima liked things to be simple and clean, but they both liked volleyball and the scent of fresh linen. They fell into a comfortable relationship, then—though a professional one, of course, but sometimes Oikawa just couldn’t help but look at the way Ushijima would briefly close his eyes and turn his face up to the sun on a particularly bright day or how he’d scowl at Oikawa’s side when a director would say something he knew Oikawa wouldn’t like. That was another thing—Ushijima _respected_ Oikawa. He knew that Oikawa was more than capable of being able to handle himself in the majority of situations, such as arguing with a commercial’s art director for having bad taste in the props they choose, but it was that other small percent of encounters that Ushijima knew were his where he’d sweep in and break up the scene before any conflict could even unfold. 

Ushijima would never overstep his bounds because he knew when he was needed and when he wasn’t since Oikawa was his own person.

“Ushiwaka,” Oikawa uses the nickname he gave the bodyguard early on while being annoyed at him, but it had stuck. Ushijima never said if it bothered him, so Oikawa just carried on.

“Yes, Oikawa-san?” Ushijima is sitting in a chair at Oikawa’s dining table. It’s a rare day where Oikawa has two short photoshoots with enough time in between them that Ushijima was able to drive them back to Oikawa’s apartment in between for a few hours. He still uses honorifics occasionally with Oikawa, even though the model has insisted that there is no need. 

Oikawa uncoils from where he’s been lounging across his couch and half-paying attention to whatever game show was on TV. He turns around to where Ushijima is at the table behind him. “I want to do something.”

“Now?” Ushijima asks.

“No, Ushiwaka, I mean after work,” Oikawa explains. “It’s a Friday, I want to go out.”

“Do you want me to take you to Iwaizumi-san's after you are done working?” Ushijima offers.

Oikawa scrunches his nose in thought. “No,” he shakes his head. “That’s not what I want.”

“I would be happy to take you wherever you would like to go once you know,” Ushijima tells him.

“Would you come with me, though?” Oikawa sits up properly to pose the question.

“If it is somewhere that requires me to watch over you, yes, I will accompany you,” Ushijima nods.

“What about if it’s because I want you there?” Oikawa tips his head to the side and puts on the smile he gives directors and photographers on his face when he’s trying to make things go his way.

“You do not have to convince me to go with you,” Ushijima informs him, and something stirs in Oikawa’s chest that Ushijima knows him well enough to see through the smile. “If you want me there, I will go.”

“Good,” Oikawa declares and flops back down on the couch and pulls out his phone to text Atsumu. They’ve done a handful of photoshoots together and become well-enough acquaintances for Oikawa to be fully aware the other model stays on top of the current trendy clubs. Oikawa had even gone to a few with him and then to Atsumu’s twin’s onigiri restaurant after to indulge in post-clubbing food. This was before Ushjima started to work for him, of course.

Once Oikawa shoots off a message to Atsumu, he locks his phone, and in the reflection of the dark screen, he sees Ushijima look away from him. This isn’t the first time Oikawa has caught Ushijima looking, and Oikawa assumes it won’t be the last time either. Most of the reason Oikawa caught on to the way his bodyguard-slash-assistant steals glances of him is because Oikawa looks, too.

Whenever Ushijima stands in the corner of the room during a photoshoot, Oikawa will look over and see him frowning down at his phone, undoubtedly looking over the rest of the day’s schedule or dealing with messages coming in from the agency. He gets the usual furrow between his brows, a look Oikawa has seen on countless people in his life, but something about it on Ushijima makes Oikawa want to walk over and smooth it down—makes him want to place a soft kiss between eyebrows just so the tension can bleed away for a moment.

Of course, Oikawa hasn’t done such a thing, and Ushijima has never done anything more than taking an occasional prolonged look at Oikawa as if drinking in the sight of him so he can be sustained for just a little while longer. Something about that makes Oikawa shiver. And Oikawa knows that Ushijima will never do anything more than that because, as Oikawa knows, Ushijima respects him. Oikawa would almost go so far as to believe that Ushijima cares for him, and that causes his heart to speed up just to think about. 

It’s been like this for a while now, and Oikawa can hardly believe that he doesn’t know when it started given how well he’s cataloged memories of when other events with Ushijima have happened, like how it’s been three weeks and a day since the last time Ushijima simply stepped in front of Oikawa and ushered him away with a hand on the shoulder to avoid crossing paths with a photographer sitting at a cafe table waiting for him to walk by. 

Maybe Oikawa is ready for that to change. Maybe tonight is when he’ll start count for another event. 

That all depends on if fucking Miya Atsumu who either always has his phone on him or seems to have thrown it into a lake and appears hours later will respond to his message or not.

\---

“Oikawa-san,” the voice sounds far away. “Oikawa, wake up, please, Oikawa.” Someone touches his shoulder and gently shakes, and Oikawa slowly opens his eyes. It appears that he dozed off on the couch, and now Ushjima is hovering above him gently trying to drag him back to wakefulness. “Oikawa-san, you fell asleep. We must leave for your next appointment in an hour.”

Oikawa makes a sound to convey he heard Ushijima and is awake, but his brain is still sleep fogged and thinking about how Ushjima looks at him when he thinks Oikawa doesn’t know. The combination makes him reach out and grab Ushjima’s wrist. “Ushiwaka,” his voice is drenched in sleep. “Sit with me.”

“You need to get up and get ready.”

“I want you to sit.”

“There’s no room.”

Oikawa pulls his legs close and gestures to the open space on the couch. Ushijima looks at the empty area as if it’s something that could cause him bodily harm, but after a quick glance over at Oikawa’s face, he comes to a conclusion and sits down. Oikawa promptly spreads his legs back out and lays them across Ushijima’s lap and feels the bodyguard’s thighs tense below him. “Is this okay?” Oikawa asks.

“No, you need to get up so we are not late and don’t leave the director waiting,” Ushijima shakes his head.

“That’s not what I’m asking, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa sighs. “Is this okay?” He pushes his legs down on Ushijima’s lap to make a point.

Ushijima makes a grunting sound. “If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”

“Good,” Oikawa hums. “This is comfortable.”

“You do still need to get up,” Ushijima admonishes him.

“Shut up, idiot,” Oikawa chuckles, and his voice is light, no tone of bitterness so Ushijima knows he’s joking. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Just five?”

“Just five. I promise.”

“Okay.”

And as he promised, when Ushijima speaks five minutes later to inform him that the time is up, Oikawa takes his time to sit up, his legs still in the other’s lap, and rubs his eyes slowly. Even though he can’t see immediately, Oikawa knows dark eyes are watching him. When Oikawa’s hand falls away from his face, he’s met with Ushijima indeed looking at him, but instead of turning his head as he typically would, Ushijima trails his gaze down the loose shirt and joggers that Oikawa had pulled on for the break at home and then all the way down to his bare feet. 

“I cannot get up with your legs still on me,” Ushijima says this while still looking at his legs. 

“It appears you cannot,” Oikawa replies and swings his legs down to the cold wood floor. As soon as he’s free, Ushijima rises from the couch and retrieves his phone that was left at the dining table. Oikawa wonders if Ushijima watched him sleep. 

\---

Oikawa finishes the photoshoot, changes out of the expensive clothes he had been modeling, and thanks all of the staff he worked with at the studio. He finally pulls his phone out of his bag and sees he has not only messages from Atsumu but also a missed call and voicemail from him. Oikawa quickly swipes through his phone to listen to the message.

_Hey, Tooru-kun, you want to go clubbing, eh? You can come out with me tonight if ya want. You gonna bring that handsome bodyguard of yours?_

The message is annoyingly short, but Oikawa supposes he’ll tell Atsumu that the two of them will be joining. The idea of how the evening could go puts a spring in Oikawa’s step as he makes his way to the building’s exit where Ushijima is waiting for him.

“How did the photo shoot go?” Ushijima asks as Oikawa approaches.

“Good,” Oikawa replies. “Did you not watch?” Oikawa knows that Ushijima wasn’t there for all of it. He had been posing with heated eyes lying across a bed and was hoping to meet the bodyguard's gaze across the room, but after a few of the first shots when he could see the way Ushijima was absolutely devouring Oikawa with his eyes, the bodyguard disappeared. 

“The agency called,” Ushijima shakes his head. “I’m very sorry.”

Oikawa wonders if that was the truth or Ushijima and his endless respect and boundaries for Oikawa made himself leave the photoshoot.

“It’s okay,” Oikawa shrugs as they walk to the car. “You can make it up to me by going out with Atsumu and me tonight.”

“Miya-san?” Ushijima’s voice already sounds tired at the idea of having to be around Atsumu, and it makes Oikawa chuckle. 

“Not fond of him?” Oikawa asks.

“He’s simply very loud,” Ushijima explains as he sits in the driver’s seat and Oikawa takes his place in the front passenger seat. Ushijima is the only assistant with whom he’s insisted on sitting in the front.

“Valid,” Oikawa concedes. Miya Atsumu is a lot.

The rest of the drive back to Oikawa’s apartment is spent in silence, and Oikawa wonders if Ushijima is also thinking about how the night will go. Oikawa has an ideal ending, but he isn’t really ready to confront it other than contemplating it in abstract terms. What would it be like if he kissed Ushijima?

Instead, Oikawa turns his attention to calling Atsumu back and making plans for them to meet him at a club that he would be able to get them into and to the VIP section. That sounds ideal to Oikawa, and one of his legs bounces in anticipation as Ushijima parks the car.

Once Oikawa unlocks the apartment, he bounds inside to start getting ready and yells at Ushijima, informing him that’s what he’s going to do. Ushijima offers an affirmative noise and takes his place at the dining table and pulls out his phone. Oikawa wonders who else he even speaks to; he knows that Ushijima has a best friend who’s a chocolatier and they hang out sometimes, but he doesn’t think that’s who he must spend all the time on the phone with. Maybe he’s really deep in playing an otome game. The thought of that makes Oikawa smile to himself as he steps into the steam of his shower.

Wearing a fluffy robe, Oikawa carefully picks pieces from his closet to wear. He places the clothes on the bed and keeps glancing over at them while he does his hair and adds some light makeup to his face. 

After finally pulling on the clothes, Oikawa turns and twists in his mirror to examine himself. He has on a loose white shirt that’s tucked into place with a dark grey leather harness that has straps that sit comfortably across his chest and stomach and over his shoulders. The shirt hangs loosely over the top of tight black jeans that have the bottom of the legs tucked into high combat boots. Oikawa thinks he looks good and smiles to himself, pleased.

When he exits his bedroom, Oikawa calls for Ushijima, who looks up from the table. His mouth opens to say something, but the words never make it out as his lips stay gently parted while he looks at Oikawa. The way that Ushijima looks Oikawa up and down slowly is unmistakable, and it closely resembles the few seconds Oikawa saw Ushijima earlier today when they were at the shoot mere hours ago. Ushijima _likes_ what he sees.

“What do you think?” Oikawa asks, hands on his hips.

“You look good,” Ushijima says simply, managing to find his voice.

Oikawa absolutely hates the way the simple compliment burns the tips of his ears. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Ushijima still looks a little dumbfounded. 

“Now, you,” Oikawa pulls himself out of the daze of being under Ushijima’s eyes like this. “Stand up.”

“What about me?” Ushijima frowns.

“You can’t wear that to a club, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa scoffs and raises an eyebrow. “Now, let’s see.”

Oikawa steps up close to Ushijima. “Well, you won’t need this,” he says and tugs at the plain blue tie Ushijima is wearing. Oikawa thinks about telling him to take it off, but then gets a better idea and starts removing it from Ushijima himself. The close proximity means that Oikawa doesn’t miss the way that Ushijima’s breath catches for a moment and how his chest moves faster under Oikawa’s light touches to remove the tie. When it’s off, Oikawa carefully folds it and lays it over the back of one of the dining chairs. “Don’t need this either,” Oikawa informs him, tugging lightly at the blazer’s collar and then also pulls it off Ushijima. The bodyguard’s chest is still rising and falling faster than normal. Oikawa gives the same care he gave the tie to the jacket.

“Is this enough?” Ushijima asks, voice tight.

“No,” Oikawa states and grabs one of Ushijima’s wrists. “We’ll fix these.” He unbuttons the cuff and gently folds them back and then does the same to the other sleeve so they’re pushed back and reveal Ushijima’s strong forearms. “Now you’re done.” Oikawa takes a step back and admires the slightly casual look of Ushijima. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ushijima not wearing the usual business attire. Oikawa glances down at his phone for the time and sees they need to leave now in order to meet Atsumu at the club. “Let’s go.”

The drive is short and silent, which Oikawa is fine with. Atsumu had even been good enough to tell Oikawa where to direct Ushijima to park, so they’re able to make quick work of that and walk to the club. Oikawa messages Atsumu that they’re almost there, and when they arrive, he’s waiting outside for them.

“Tooru-kun! Ushiwaka-kun!” Atsumu cries and waves his hand excitedly. “Come in, come in,” Atsumu gestures for them to follow him, and Oikawa spares a glance at the line of people waiting to get in still. They snake through some hallways and the sound of music gradually increases until they finally pass through doors that lead to the main club area. Atsumu once again gestures for them to keep following him, and he eventually takes them past guards to a set of stairs that winds up and deposits them in a room above the club. The music is slightly muted up here but still loud. The walls appear to be some form of plexiglass and clear so whoever is up in this VIP area can look down at the people below. The stairs they came up are also a quick way to get down into the middle of the action and near a bar. 

“How’d you get VIP access here?” Oikawa asks, sitting down on one of the couches in the room. He notices there are bottles of liquor on the table already. 

“I know the owner,” Atsumu shrugs and sits down on a plush armchair across from Oikawa. “Come on, take a seat, Ushiwaka-kun,” Atsumu waves to the couch next to Oikawa.

“It’s Ushijima,” he corrects while sitting down.

“Oh,” Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “Is Oikawa-kun the only one allowed to call you Ushiwaka?”

“Yes,” Ushijima says it so simply like stating a fact, and for some reason that lights something inside Oikawa. 

“I see, I apologize, then, Ushijima-kun,” Atsumu’s smile is a bit feral and his eyes bright. “Please, drink whatever you want,” he waves at the bottles Oikawa had noticed earlier. 

Oikawa moves immediately to pull two glasses and pour whiskey for himself and Ushijima; he knew from previous discussions that it was Ushijima’s preferred alcohol if he was going to drink. Ushijima thanks him when Oikawa hands him the glass and he takes a small sip. Oikawa feels tempted to throw the drink back fast to get things started, but a stronger part of him knows to take this night with patience.

“So, Atsumu,” Oikawa starts. “Who’s this manager you know?”

Atsumu gives a one-shoulder shrug. “I filmed a commercial here, and he was the person from the club supervisin' the shoot. We hit it off.”

“In what way?” Oikawa raises an eyebrow and takes a sip.

“A very good way,” Atsumu smirks. “He’ll be by soon, I think. He had just stepped out when you messaged you were near.” As if on cue, a tall figure walks in. He’s wearing all black, from a high turtle-neck sweater, blazer, pants, and shoes to the mask covering his face. There are two moles above an eyebrow, and his eyes look tired. “Omi-kun!” Atsumu cries and stands up. When this Omi-kun nears Atsumu, Atsumu puts an arm around his waist and pulls him close. “Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi, this is Sakusa Kiyoomi, he’s the club manager, Omi-kun, these are my friends I was tellin’ you about.”

“It’s an honor to meet Atsumu’s friends,” Sakusa gives a small nod. “Please let me know if there’s anything you need while here.”

“I need somethin’,” Atsumu says with a sly smile and head turning toward Sakusa. 

“Later,” Sakusa rolls his eyes, and there’s something very comforting about the interaction. Maybe it’s because Atsumu is possibly in a relationship with someone who’s already over his shit, and Oikawa appreciates that in a person. 

“I like him,” Oikawa smiles and takes a drink. 

“Me too,” Atsumu’s grin remains wide. “Very much.” 

At this, Sakusa seems to just barely acquiesce to Atsumu and turns his face to him. He pulls down his mask just enough to place a quick kiss on Atsumu’s cheek and then covers right back up. “I’ll be by later to check on you all.” With that, Sakusa leaves the three. 

“So, what made ya decide to come out here tonight?” Atsumu asks as he sits back down.

“Just wanted to go out a bit,” Oikawa shrugs. 

“What about _you,_ Ushijima-kun?” Atsumu looks at him to pose the question.

“I am here because Oikawa wanted me to join him at a club,” he explains.

“I see,” Atsumu leans forward and picks up the glass he was presumably drinking from earlier. “You’re close, aren’t ya, Ushijima-kun? You two?”

“I am his bodyguard and assistant, so yes, we know each other well,” Ushijima answers.

“How well?” Atsumu leans forward. Ushijima doesn’t respond right away, so Oikawa takes the opportunity to down the rest of his drink and tells Ushijima to do the same. Of course, the bodyguard listens and drinks the rest immediately, and Oikawa has the honor to watch as Ushijima’s throat works to take down the burning liquor. “I see,” Atsumu hums. “Well, go out and enjoy the club, yeah?”

“Thanks, Atsumu-kun,” Oikawa knows the other model is holding back, so before he can change his mind and try to pry for more information, Oikawa grabs Ushijima's hand. “Let’s go dance.”

“But I don’t dance,” Ushijima replies flatly.

“Think of it as an opportunity for something new, then, hmm, Ushiwaka?” Oikawa tugs at his arm again, and this time Ushijima easily pulls himself up and stands. 

“Before ya go,” Atsumu stands and walks over to pull some shot glasses from a cabinet in the corner. “Let’s take a round.” He pours three neat shots of a different whiskey, and the three men slam them back at the same time. Oikawa vaguely thinks this was either a very bad or good choice. When Oikawa coughs from the burn of the liquor down his throat, Atsumu comes over to thump his back and then slides his hand down to put something into Oikawa’s back pocket. “Let me know if you and Ushijima need this room to yourselves later. I can go to Sakusa’s office.” With that, he slinks away and goes back to his chair. “I’m goin’ to wait for Sakusa.”

“Thanks, see you,” Oikawa waves with a smile but the condom he knows was placed in his back pocket feels like it's a burning, hopeful sign.

When Oikawa and Ushijima make it to the dancefloor, they’re surrounded by bodies dancing and thrashing about. Oikawa stands in front of Ushijima and slowly starts swaying his hips to the beat of the music playing and then raises his hands to rest them above his head. His eyes slip closed as he tries to forget all the anxiety pounding in his veins and focus on feeling the music instead. When Oikawa thinks he’s getting into it, he opens his eyes, and Ushijima is just standing there, unmoving and watching.

“Ushiwaka,” Oikawa yells over the music. “Dance!”

“I don’t know how!” Ushijima yells back looking a little panicked.

“It’s easy,” Oikawa laughs. “Here.” He moves close and slips his hands around Ushijima’s neck, and he doesn’t miss the way the bodyguard’s eyes go wide for a moment. “Follow me, okay?” 

Ushijima nods, so Oikawa starts moving like he had been earlier. There’s enough room between them for no touching anywhere other than where Oikawa has his arms looped. One of Ushijima’s hands moves from where it’s dangling at his side and takes a light hold of Oikawa’s hip. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice just loud enough for the two of them.

“Yes, now move!” Oikawa tells him. Ushijima once again nods and then slowly starts to copy the movements of Oikawa’s hips. He’s bulkier and doesn’t have the same lithe muscle as Oikawa, but there’s still something so fucking hot Oikawa decides of seeing that thick muscle start to dance. They stay like that, swaying to the music, and Oikawa alternates between closing his eyes and opening them to watch how Ushijima’s eyes seem to be glued to the space between them as if he’s trying to make sure they don’t move closer. Oikawa says Ushijima's name, and then his eyes snap up to Oikawa’s face. The expression that breaks across Ushijima is one that conveys that he can’t believe he had not already been watching Oikawa’s face. “It’s okay,” Oikawa says, and then he clutches onto Ushijima tighter and brings their bodies closer. 

The song changes, and with it the beat speeds up. Oikawa starts to speed up his movements to match the music, which then means he pulls Ushijima along with him in the faster dance. They’re much closer now, and every occasional move makes their groins brush or Oikawa’s harness graze across Ushijima’s chest. 

Oikawa closes his eyes and fully lets himself go to the music and the feel of Ushjima’s hands--oh, both of them are on his waist now—holding him. When the song switches again, Oikawa flutters his eyes open and sees Ushijima staring back at him. The lights of the club flash around them, but it’s enough to see that the bodyguard’s eyes have taken a molten quality that Oikawa has never seen before. The want is so clearly written across his face because Ushijima is a simple man who knows what he wants and denies himself of it, but right now he’s at his edge. Oikawa is, too, frankly.

Oikawa fully plasters himself down Ushijima’s front, no space left between them and they’re completely pressed tight. Neither of them stops moving, they just increase their holds on each other and don’t let their locked eyes break. But then Oikawa moves his head to speak into Ushijima’s ear. 

“You know I want to, too?”

“You do?” Ushijima gasps, eyes wide as if this was the greatest revelation he’d ever heard in his life. Maybe it was, Oikawa doesn’t know.

“Yeah,” Oikawa nods and licks his lips. “Please.”

It’s a soft brush of lips at first. The most gentle brush that tells Oikawa that Ushijima still thinks that this is something that could shatter apart so easily. It’s not though. If anything, Oikawa wants Ushijima to wreck him in the best way. The thought of that is what propels Oikawa forward to attempt to fit himself into every crevice of Ushijima while they’re in the middle of a dance floor. Eventually, someone’s lips part and someone’s teeth are nipping at lips. It makes Oikawa whine. The slick and soft swipe of Ushijima’s tongue across the roof of his mouth makes Oikawa’s knees go weak, but then Ushijima is there, wrapping his arms tighter and holding him up as if he will never let him go. Oikawa hopes he never lets go. 

One of Ushijima’s hands trails up Oikawa’s back, stopping to fiddle with parts of the harness as he goes. Ushijima gives a testing tug at one of the straps, and it makes Oikawa gasp into his mouth. Oikawa swears he feels Ushijima smile briefly into the kiss, but then Ushijima’s tongue licks into his mouth again, causing Oikawa to forget anything he had been thinking momentarily.

Oikawa knows he’s the one to turn things up. The music is still pounding in the space, and bodies are still moving around them. Ushijima’s hand that made its way up Oikawa’s back has now dug into Oikawa’s hair, and that grip keeps angling his head whichever way the other man wants it so he can devour Oikawa’s mouth. It makes his skin feel like it’s on fire, his veins are burning, and so long as Ushijima is touching him, nothing can be extinguished. Oikawa turns the dancing dirty. He pushes his hips forward, grinding into Ushijima, but then Ushijima plays right back and moves so one of his thick thighs slots between Oikawa’s legs, letting him shamelessly chase the feeling of possibly getting off like this.

He gasps and his head falls back of its own volition, breaking apart Oikawa and Ushijima’s lips, but that seems to be okay because Ushijima latches on to Oikawa’s neck. The vague thought to mention not marking up Oikawa’s skin flutters through the fog of his brain, but Oikawa also knows that Ushijima is fully aware that Oikawa’s skin must stay blemish-free. At least in visible areas.

It becomes too much when Oikawa lets out a particularly loud moan that turns a few heads in their direction. Slightly mortified but not wanting to let go of Ushijima, Oikawa pulls away slightly just so he can turn around in the other’s arms so now his back is to Ushijima’s front. Oikawa twines his arms up and back so they hang around Ushijima’s neck and tips his head back as well onto Ushijima’s shoulder.

“How’s this?” Oikawa asks, and the angle is just enough for him to smack a wet kiss below Ushijima’s ear.

“Nice,” Ushijima replies, and his hands settle on Oikawa’s body right below the lower strap of the harness. His thumbs make occasional swipes to dig under the leather and feel OIkawa’s skin through the thin shirt fabric instead. 

“Good,” Oikawa replies and gives him another kiss in the same place just because he can. “Let’s dance.”

It starts innocently enough, or at least as innocent as dancing can be given the circumstances. Ushijima is hard, and Oikawa can feel it pressing it into his ass every time he moves. Each sway and grind back seems to make Ushijima let out another small sound behind him, and Oikawa can’t breathe at the thought that the bodyguard would be this vocal when they’re in bed as well. The thought of that keeps Oikawa moving on him, keeps him supposedly dancing when it’s really just purely seeing how many points of contact he can achieve between their bodies while they’re standing up. Ushijima’s hands trail across every part of Oikawa’s body that he can reach, and the fingers leave a blazing trail behind. Oikawa just wants more and more.

Ushijima grips Oikawa’s hips hard, and the feeling of fingers that could leave bruises digging in there stops Oikawa’s hips from moving and makes his lips part in a gasp. He arches back and whines, wondering if Ushihima can hold him down like that in bed. 

“Not here,” Ushijima growls into Oikawa’s ear, and Oikawa’s eyes close while he nods furiously. 

_Yes, home, now._ Oikawa breaks away from Ushijima now while his brain is capable of it and tugs his hand so they can get out of the club.

Oikawa vaguely wonders if he should try and seek out Atsumu or even Sakusa-san before leaving to thank them for the, though brief, time at the club. Oikawa doesn’t feel that way anymore when his eyes drift to a corner and he sees Atsumu crowding the club manager into a corner and moving his high turtle-neck to kiss newly exposed skin. He can message Atsumu later.

When they step outside instead of being hit with the low humidity of the summer, they’re met with rain falling. Oikawa doesn’t remember if it was in the forecast, not that he really pays attention, but it’s a steady rain that if you stood in it for long enough you’d probably get drenched through. Oikawa has always liked the rain. Something about it feels like a cleansing of oneself. So, Oikawa laughs and turns his head up to the sky, closing his eyes and lets the rain fall on him. 

“Oikawa, you’ll get wet,” Ushijima’s voice cuts through the patter of the rain.

“I plan on it,” Oikawa replies, double entendre hanging in the air.

“Your shirt,” Ushijima whispers. “You can see through it.”

Oikawa imagines that’s true. It’s a thin white shirt so the more water it absorbs the more transparent it becomes. Does Ushijima like that? 

“Do you like that you can see through it?” Oikawa goes ahead and asks.

“Yes,” Ushijima still sounds tense.

“Do you like that others can see through it?” Oikawa presses.

“No,” Ushijima makes the single word sound like law.

The admission makes Oikawa finally open his eyes and turn to a different type of heaven—Ushijima’s weighted gaze of desire on him, rain and sweat matting his heat down and dripping in slow rivulets down his face. “You want me all to yourself?”

“Yes.”

Oikawa turns to put his arms around Ushijima and hugs him close, resting his chin on Ushijima’s shoulder so he can speak into his ear. The harness is cold against his damp shirt, and he wonders if it’s that or being pressed together while wet that makes Ushijima shiver. Oikawa doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ushijima shiver before, and he wants it to happen again. “Ushijima, I am yours,” Oikawa whispers. “And you’re mine. Every photo I take, I think of you. Every time I try to find you in the studio, like today, it was for you. But you disappeared on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima apologizes. 

“But you’re always watching, aren’t you?” Oikawa drags his fingers through the damp hair at Ushijima’s nape, a mix of rain and sweat. “Your eyes are _always_ on me.”

“Always,” Ushijima responds, and then he’s got his hand around Oikawa’s jaw and moves his face so they can kiss again. 

Ushijima’s mouth opens immediately so Oikawa can slide his tongue inside and lick through the places he just started to get to know in the club, and that’s when he remembers the whole reason they came outside was to get home so Oikawa can pull Ushijima on top of him on a bed. As that reminder comes back to him, Oikawa pulls away but is besotted when Ushijima tries to follow his mouth. “Let’s go home,” Oikawa gives a tender smile.

“Yes, let’s,” Ushijima nods and takes Oikawa’s hand to lead him to where the car was parked. 

For the entire drive home, Oikawa feels reluctant to stop touching Ushijima. He’s gone so long without letting that line be broken ever since he realized he wanted to get his hands on the man that now he’s allowed to, well, he can’t stop. He keeps a hand on Ushijima’s thigh while he drives, and when it wanders up, Ushijima takes the hand and instead of moving it away, laces their fingers together. The action makes Oikawa’s jaw drop open in surprise a small amount. These soft actions will be the death of him, Oikawa concludes. 

In the elevator up to Oikawa’s apartment floor, they’re alone, and Oikawa surprises them both when instead of going in for a kiss or maybe some shameless pressing of their bodies together he instead simply wraps his arms around Ushijima and buries his face in the other man’s chest. It’s a tight embrace, and it’s just what Oikawa needs to get himself to level out and calm down momentarily. Ushijima’s arms hug him back, and it’s not lost on Oikawa how Ushijima’s hands are just so much bigger than his, how many ways Ushijima is just simply larger than Oikawa even though their height only has a few centimeters in difference. 

Oikawa’s apartment is dark, of course, as he’d left it when they’d stepped out for their evening at the club. Taking Ushijima’s hand, Oikawa walks them over to the couch and pushes Ushijima down so he can climb on his lap. After a moment’s thought, Oikawa crawls over to a side table to flip on one lamp and then resumes his place on the throne of Ushijima’s thighs.

“I like this,” Ushijima tugs gently at one of the rings on Oikawa’s harness. 

“Yeah?” Oikawa breathes and kisses the corner of Ushijima’s mouth.

“Yes,” Ushijima nods. “Very much so.”

“Would you like it better off?” Oikawa asks.

Ushijima frowns. “I just like you however you are.”

The confession makes Oikawa’s cheek heat. “Stupid, Ushiwaka.”

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Ushijima’s mouth turns down.

“No, idiot, I mean that you’re too...too honest, too sweet. I don’t know how to deal with it.” Oikawa sighs and pats the collar of Usijima’s shirt. “Nothing to apologize for.”

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with how I feel about you, though,” the frown hasn’t eased from Ushijima’s face. 

“I don’t,” Oikawa assures. “I like that you like me. _I like_ you.”

With that, Oikawa leans back in and starts to kiss Ushijima again, this time letting his lips trail down Ushijima’s strong jaw and further to below his ear. When Oikawa’s teeth give a quick bite at Ushijima’s neck, it makes the bodyguard groan, so Oikawa keeps doing it to get more and more sounds to break through those lips that are always pursed shut in serious concentration. Each noise Ushijima makes is a gem to Oikawa.

While he has Ushijima distracted, Oikawa starts to slip buttons free from Ushijima’s shirt and let his hand finally touch the tight muscle he’d felt over the fabric only. Ushijima’s skin is soft and warm and his chest is smooth and hard with defined pecs that make Oikawa’s mouth water. He slips off Ushijima’s lap and onto his knees between Ushijima’s legs so he can give the newly revealed skin the attention it also deserves with his mouth. When Oikawa’s tongue licks over a nipple, Ushijima gasps, and when Oikawa sucks a bruise onto the skin next to it, Ushijima lets out the loudest moan yet that makes Oikawa throb in his pants. Oikawa bites at the skin above Ushijima’s belt just to watch how he squirms under Oikawa’s mouth. If Ushijima hadn’t already been so vocal, the bulge in his dark pants makes how much he’s enjoying himself fully apparent.

Oikawa unbuckles the belt slowly, and once he has pants pulled away enough to be able to pull Ushijima out of his boxers, Ushijima’s hands move from where they’d been gripping the couch to settle in Oikawa’s hair. He lets out a soft moan at the feeling of Ushijima’s fingers threading through his locks while he’s holding on to Ushijima loosely. Oikawa gives a small lick to the tip, and it makes Ushijima take a deep inhale that he holds as if not breathing in order to prevent disturbing Oikawa from his actions. But Oikawa _wants_ the noises. The logical thing to do in his mind, then, is to simply take Ushijima all the way down in one go. It works. The shock of Oikawa’s warm and wet mouth around him has Ushijima bucking up and crying out. Oikawa was prepared, though, and used all his strength to make sure he could push Ushijima down from shoving too far into his throat.

Then it’s just the easy glide of his mouth over Ushijima, occasionally stopping to catch his breath by using his hand or leaving small licks. Oikawa starts cataloging Ushijima’s sounds, trying to remember what move elicits what response from the other man. He’s never been so thankful for how blunt and forward Ushijima is because otherwise, he would likely be trying to cover up his sounds, instead, Ushijima lets Oikawa know just exactly how he feels.

Eventually one of the hands in his hair tugs hard, and Oikawa realizes it’s to pull him off from Ushijima. Ushijima keeps the hand latched onto Oikawa’s hair when he drags him back and looks him in the eyes. Oikawa knows what he looks like with blown eyes and dark lips, but Ushijima is a dream himself. His hair is slightly disheveled, his short is completely open and hanging loose allowing Oikawa full view of a heaving and toned chest and stomach. 

“I want to be inside you,” Ushijima declares, his voice low and laced with want that is ruinous for Oikawa. The statement makes Oikawa give a twitching shiver, his body wants that so bad. He feels empty and hollow and needs the feeling of Ushijima pushing him down into a bed and sinking into him immediately.

“Yes,” Oikawa gasps. 

They manage to pull themselves up and make it to the bedroom where Oikawa throws himself down on the bed and lazily scoots himself up to the headboard while maintaining eye contact with Ushijima, who just stands at the edge of the bed and watches. Once Oikawa has made it to the head of the bed and lounges back on the pillows, Ushijima pulls his shirt that was just barely hanging on at this point off and tosses it to the floor. Oikawa thinks about how carefully he had put Ushijima’s clothes away earlier before they left for the club.

“How do you want me?” Oikawa asks.

“Naked,” Ushijima wastes no time. 

“Come up here and help me, then.”

Oikawa directs Ushijima on how to unbuckle and remove the harness and raises his eyebrows when Ushijima gets up from the bed to make sure the harness is then put down carefully on the chair in the bedroom.

“This appears finely made, so I assume it's expensive,” Ushijima explains. “It should be taken care of.”

“Are you going to take care of me?” Oikawa asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course,” Ushijima nods, and he pulls the thin white shirt above Oikawa’s head. “If you’ll let me.”

And Oikawa does. He lets Ushijima strip him of all his clothes before crawling down Oikawa’s body so he can bite bruises to the inside of Oikawa’s thighs where no one else can see them. He lets Ushijima take the lube from the side table and coat his fingers to slowly work those thick digits inside Oikawa while his mouth works to keep Oikawa hard through the slight discomfort. He lets Ushijima pull Oikawa onto his lap to lower the model onto himself.

Their skin is slick with sweat from exertion and heat, and Oikawa’s fingers keep sliding across Ushijima’s body trying to find purchase to grab on while he adjusts to feeling so full and consumed by the other man. Ushijima senses this and finds one of Oikawa’s hands to twine their fingers together, making Oikawa’s breath hitch. Ushijima takes it the wrong way, thinks that Oikawa’s in pain, and asks worried questions. But Oikawa just shakes his head and tells Ushijima to start moving.

They work together like this, with Oikawa slowly raising and lowering himself while Ushijima thrusts up. The pace is slow and languid, and each time Ushijima pushes into Oikawa’s body feels like something new is unfurling in Oikawa’s heart. 

“What are you doing to me?” Oikawa sighs.

“Are you okay?” concern fills Ushijima’s voice. “Are you in pain?”

“I feel good, Ushijima,” Oikawa tells him. “I feel so fucking good.”

Oikawa suddenly finds himself on his back and his legs wrapped around Ushijima, and he stares up in a little bit of awe at him. Ushijima resumes their slow pace, kissing up Oikawa’s chest to his neck before reaching his ear and whispering. “I’m taking care of you.”

“Fuck,” Oikawa cries out, and Ushijima gives a hard thrust. “Fuck me, Ushijima, fuck me.”

“Yes, yes,” Ushijima repeats his name, and then he’s back at Oikawa’s ear. “Say Wakatoshi.”

“Wakatoshi, harder, please, Waka—” Oikawa arches up and his eyes slam shut because Ushijima does indeed start giving his all into fucking Oikawa. His hands are gripping Oikawa’s hips to hold him down so all Oikawa can do is take it as he’s given everything.

“Can I call you Tooru?” Ushijima asks, and Oikawa barely gasps out a yes before Ushijima starts chanting _Tooru, Tooru,_ over and over again while fucking into Oikawa. 

Oikawa gets a fist in Ushijima’s hair to anchor his head in order for them to be able to kiss, and it’s so fucking fantastic because Oikawa can move his tongue into Ushijima’s mouth the way Ushijima is working in his body. This is everything Oikawa wanted because he feels good, he feels cared for in Ushijima’s arms. And then Ushijima gets a hand on where he’d been neglecting Oikawa and starts stroking him as much in time with his thrusts as he can manage, which signals the end for Oikawa. He wasn’t going to last long to begin with, but now he didn’t just hurtle to the end as he did slam into it full force with a scream of _Wakatoshi._

He lies there panting and feeling limbless yet still managing to clutch onto Ushijima’s hair. Oikawa keeps trying to kiss Ushijima and utter his name in little breathless gasps since he’s sensitive but wants Ushijima to come inside him. When Ushijima moans out _Tooru_ in a way that Oikawa never wants to forget, he comes and Oikawa almost feels like he himself did again.

After, they tangle their limbs together and kiss slowly while trying to regain equilibrium. There’s some discomfort when Ushijima pulls out, but Oikawa likes it because he knows where Ushijima was. 

“We should get up,” Ushijima kisses Oikawa’s nose, making him laugh.

“Why?”

“Because we should clean up.”

“So then clean,” Oikawa pushes on Ushijima’s shoulders, the intent clear, and Ushijima follows the command and moves down Oikawa’s body. “I’m not done with you yet. I probably won’t ever be.”

“Good,” Ushijima replies, and then he’s licking at where Oikawa is still sensitive, making him arch up.

They’ll talk about all this properly later—what all of this means for the two of them, but right now, Ushijima is taking care of Oikawa, and Oikawa wants to give him everything.

Nine hours and 23 minutes have gone by since Oikawa and Ushijima kissed under club lights, Oikawa thinks when he wakes up in the morning and feels Ushijima’s arm wrapped around him as he cranes his neck to look at the time. It’s early, still, and on a Saturday with no work planned, Oikawa settles back down and smiles to himself while Ushijima makes a sound of contentment in his sleep. Oikawa wonders how many years, months, days, hours, minutes, it will take for him to fall in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

Maybe he already has.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pushclouds/status/1307488364497702912?s=20), just yelling.


End file.
